Then to my lifted eyes, a bow
Of promise rose to view,

The bow that spanned my brightened sky
Was just a bow of blue.

For his step was firm and steady,
And his eyes were clear and true,
And on his manly breast he wore
A little bow of blue.

And is there one before me now
Addicted to the cup?

Oh! listen to a friendly voice,
And give the idol up.

Do it quickly while your heart is warm;
The act you'll never rue;

Come, take our pledge, and proudly wear
Our little bow of blue.

Then with hand that's firm and steady,
And a mind that's clear and true,
Renounce strong drink, wear on your breast
A little bow of blue.

A bit of ribbon blue

May little seem to you,

But oh! how much it meant to me,
That little bow of blue!

HAL

OLD CHRISTMAS.

"ALLO! Here's "Old Christmas" with jovial face! Come, bring the bright holly our loved homes to

grace;

The goose and the sirloin, the turkey, the fowl,
The mistletoe, yule log, but no wassail bowl,—
And we will be merry, most blithesome and free,
And spend the long evenings in singing and glee.

Let north winds blow keenly, let snow fall in flakes,
Let frost bite most sharply, congealing the lakes;
Let searching east winds, and the drizzling sleet,
Blow cold round the corners, make sloppy the street,
Yet, we will be merry, most joyous and free,
And spend the long evenings in singing and glee.

We fear not the winds, we delight in the snow,

We heed not the sleet, as it beats on our brow;

The Childless Mothers.

39

When frosts are right keen, we glide o'er the lakes;
At home we're regaled with the spiced Christmas cakes
So we will be merry, right mirthful and free,
Thus spending Old Christmas in jovial glee.

We'll call round our hearthstone relations and friends,
And give thanks to Gol, for the mercies He sends;
The glee, joke, and tale shall right merrily go,
Making joyful the time as it onward doth flow;
And we will be merry, most blithesome and free,
And spend the long evening in singing and glee.
We'll remember the old, and will certainly try
To make their sad hours pass cheerily by ;
We'll send them a part of our bountiful store,
Nor pass the deserving although they be poor,
That they may be merry, most blithsome and free,
Thus keeping Old Christmas with singing and glee.

THE CHILDLESS MOTHERS.

YE mothers of little children!

Ye who are toil-worn and weary,

Think of the mothers to-night

Whose homes are childless and dreary:

No whisper of childish prattle,

And no noisy footfall is boun ling;

But silence and sa iness reigneth

And the knell of the churchyard is sounding.

Ye mothers, with hands so la len

With tasks, and duties, and care,

That ye have no time for resting,

But of work have more than a share,
Pause for a moment and pity

The heart-broken mothers to-night,

Whose hands are no longer busy,

Whose homes are no longer bright.

Ye mothers whose hearts are burdened
With anxious thought and care,
Mourn for the mothers to-night

Who would gladly your burden bear.
And ye, with little ones spared you,
Be hopeful, and brave, and glad,
And mourn for the desolate mothers,
Whose homes are joyless and sad.

God pity the mothers to-night

Whose little ones lie 'neath the sod; Their life is a weary way

Who have thus passed under the rod;
Pray that some gleam of sunshine
May come to them to-night,
For He who sent them the darkness
Can bring to them the light.

And pray that all joyful mothers,
Be true to the trust to them sent,
And remember that their little ones
Are only jewels lent.

HOPE IN WORK.

EDWARD HAYTON.

ALL work

Well done, must tell sometime for goodNor faithless Jew, nor savage Turk,

Is fairly proof against the might

Of steady and unswerving right.

Oh! ask

No splendid opportunity,

But just the simple daily task—

The chance that comes in little things,

The chance that any duty brings.

If these

Are lost, the best-ay, all is lost!

For man grows strong by slow degrees;

'Tis inch by inch if 'tis at all,

The great lies somewhere in the small.

The hand,

That shapes to-day a work of art,
Was slowly brought to understand
The laws of beauty-slowly brought
To follow fine the sculptor's thought.

Toil on!

Resolv'd to reach the unattain'd,

As each man'must who would be known More noble than the beasts he drives, And who would live in other lives.

DEACON BROWN..A Moderate Drinker and Smoker of the approved type. MRS. ELIZA BROWN.. His wife, a good mother and an earnest abstainer. TOM (about 15 years of age)....... .Their son, a schoolboy. CLARA (about 21 years of age) ..Their daughter, one who takes after her mother. ......... Servant to the Browns.

EMMA...

REV. WM. WORKWELL........Their Pastor, an energetic Teetotaler and

MR. JOHN GOODHEART..
MR. JAMES ALLPROOF

Non-Smoker.

Friends of the Browns and earnest
Band of Hope Workers.

[SCENE-BROWN's Sitting Room. Table, Easy Chairs, &c. Enter BROWN, he seats himself in an easy chair by the table. Takes out a cigar and looks at it.]

DEACON BROWN.

Now then for a little indulgence. (Pauses.) I had better not smoke here, for my wife will find it out when she returns, and then I shall have a lecture. (Puts cigar back into his pocket. He rings. Enter EMMA in servant's attire.)

EMMA. Please, sir, do you want anything?

D. BROWN. Find me "The Christian Standard" for this week. (Exit EMMA, who returns with a paper, and lays it on the table beside BROWN.)

DEACON BROWN. Thank you, Emma. Where is Mrs. Brown?

EMMA. Please, sir, she went out for a walk with Miss Brown this afternoon. I expect them back every minute. Anything else wanted, please, sir?

(EMMA retires. BROWN When ! What have

D. BROWN. No, not just now. opens his paper and appears to read). we here? (He reads aloud). "To the Editor of the Christian Standard.' Dear sir,-Can nothing be done to arouse the conscience of this professedly Christian nation against the evils of drink and tobacco? I think it is quite time for all Christian men who have any regard for the highest good of

those by whom they are surrounded to have done with these two powerful agencies of evil. If we are to do any good with the degraded classes we must have clean hands ourselves. We must first set them the example of perfectly sober lives. The pot and the pipe, which have done so much to degrade and destroy them, must have no place in our regard.-Hoping these few lines may be the means of awakening some of your readers to a sense of their duty. I remain yours truly,-A Christian Worker." Dear me, I wonder what we are coming to! Strange that one cannot have a quiet smoke or a harmless glass of wine without one's Christianity being called in question in this fashion? These teetotalers and anti-smokers understand the art of making themselves very disagreeable. They are always poking their facts or their notions under a body's nose. Really things are getting too bad, and I think I will just let some of these gentlemen know a bit of my mind. I'll write to the editor of the "Christian Standard." These fellows get too much of their own way. (Enter Mrs. Brown). MRS. BROWN. Now, now, Edmund, do not get excited, dear.

DEACON BROWN. Excited! It would excite a Quaker to be persecuted as I am, just because I indulge myself occasionally in a quiet smoke or a glass of port. Look here. (Hands her paper and points out the place he has read). Read that, please. I'll write to the editor of the "Christian Standard."

MRS. BROWN (sits and reads.) But I don't see why you should take offence at this letter. There is nothing personal or offensive in it, and if you will persist in questionable practices yourself, dear, you need not set yourself up as the champion of a course of conduct which you must know to be indefensible.

D. BROWN. Questionable practice! Indefensible course of conduct! Indeed! and from my own wife too. It seems to me that I must have heard those phrases before. (Pauses). Ah, I recollect! They are just the phrases which our minister is forever dinning into one's ears. By-the-by, how is it that he has taken to visiting here so much lately? Surely he does not think that we stand in any special need of his spiritual ministrations?

MRS. BROWN. I should think you ought to be shrewd enough to guess pretty accurately yourself. Have you forgotten how persistently you visited my father's house at a certain interesting period of our history?

D. BROWN (angrily). Indeed! and so it is our Clara he is after, is it? Confound his impudence! Eliza, I am astonished